


peripheral, cutaneous vasodilation

by tekuates



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Handcuffs, M/M, Sherlock gets tied up yay, Smexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tekuates/pseuds/tekuates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for this prompt on the Sherlock Kinkmeme: "Sherlock steals Lestrade's handcuffs at a crime scene, because Lestrade is irritating him. Later that evening, Lestrade takes his cuffs back and uses them on Sherlock. You know. In a naked way."</p>
            </blockquote>





	peripheral, cutaneous vasodilation

"You should know better than this, Sherlock," Lestrade murmurs, sliding his hands over Sherlock's bare chest to curve around the back of his neck. Sherlock only shivers in response.

"It's a serious problem, you know. Missing equipment."

He pauses to gently bite the side of Sherlock's neck, then sits back, straddling the other man across the waist. Sherlock watches him dumbly, his pupils dilated more than the dim light can account for, and bites his lip so as not to moan or beg or something equally as humiliating. 

Lestrade leans forward so he's looming over Sherlock, and leans in to kiss him. He stops just short of contact, though, and smirks when Sherlock lets out a frustrated huff of breath.

"You know," Lestrade breathes, his lips just brushing Sherlock's as he speaks(a feeling which makes Sherlock strain at the handcuffs currently holding his hands to the headboard), "I'm getting the feeling this might not be the best way to punish you. Maybe I should just leave you here for a while."

"Don't -"Sherlock says involuntarily, then blushes in a way which he thinks may make him look like a fourteen year old girl. 

"Ordering someone around," Lestrade says in a voice which is entirely too reasonable considering he is still millimeters away from kissing Sherlock, "who has you cuffed to a bed is not the brightest thing to do."

Sherlock closes his eyes in an effort to regain some control over himself. While his eyes are still shut, Lestrade kisses him. He arches into it as much as he can as Lestrade's hands roam over him in a way that makes him gasp in a way which he is _sure_ makes him sound like a fourteen year old girl. Lestrade pulls away, and when Sherlock opens his eyes a moment later, the other man is grinning at him.

"Oh, shut up," he rasps. Lestrade's hand closes around him, slick with lube(Sherlock has no idea where the lube came from, which is somewhat unnerving), and strokes a few times. Sherlock moans, hips snapping up into Lestrade's touch. After a moment, it stops, and Lestrade is still grinning at him. 

"What was that, Sherlock? Did I hear you telling me to shut up?" He begins to stroke Sherlock again, stopping just as he approaches orgasm. This doesn't take long, not that Sherlock rather enjoys Lestrade taking charge or anything like that, fuck you very much. Sherlock swears rather violently, his cheeks somehow heating up more.

"You," he accuses once he can think again, "are just trying to make a fool of me."

"I'd say _trying_ is not the right word here."

"I hate you." Sherlock tries to look angry while still panting for breath.

"Don't say that," Lestrade drawls, "This may take a while, and it's best we remain on amicable terms, don't you think?" Sherlock shoots him a quizzical glance. "Well, I'm not letting you come for an hour at the _least _."__

__"Lestrade!"_ _

__~~~_ _

__The next day, Sherlock can't look at Lestrade. Because if he does, disastrous events will occur, he knows it. In the form of Sherlock turning violent shades of pink or otherwise humiliating himself._ _

__His attempts to avoid embarrassment, however, are completely bollocksed when Lestrade calls him over and whispers (more like stage-whispers, you could hear that from across a football field) exactly what he'd like to do to Sherlock that night._ _

__This results in Sherlock blushing all the way down his chest and tripping over the corpse, and John nearly giving himself an aneurysm laughing. When Sherlock informs John of this danger, however, John does not seem impressed. Possibly he can't hear Sherlock over the sound of his own laughter._ _

__Sherlock storms spectacularly out of the room, but he drags Lestrade with him._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic I have just moved over. The title is a shmancy term for blushing.


End file.
